The Shopkeeper's Apprentice
by The Geeky Quill
Summary: 2nd of my Lucius Malfoy stories. A Squib named Madeline, MadEye Moody's sister, is working at Borgin & Burkes, gets into some mischief and is helped out by an unlikely wizard. I hope you find it amusing.


Author's Note: Madeline is a squib character I created (You can read more about her in "Dragon's Fly"). Mr. Borgin and Lucius Malfoy and the "Harry Potter" world are the property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them.

The Shopkeeper's Apprentice

by

The Geeky Quill

Madeline stood leaning on the side of a brick building in Knockturn Alley. She took out her silver pocket-watch, brushed her long black hair out of her face and read the time. Then she huffed impatiently and slid down to a sit on the sidewalk. A greasy looking wizard in green robes passed by, then turned. "You down and out? In need of a galleon, sweetheart?"

She glanced up at him. "Keep walking, if you know what's good for you."

Instead of intimidating him, her idle threat seemed to invoke his predatory instinct. His smile became a sneer and she saw that he had several missing teeth. He had a broad oily nose and straggly dirty blonde hair. His age was difficult to determine. He stood over her grinning. The hand clutching his wand was poised above her. His fingers were grimy and it looked to Madeline that he had dried blood encrusting his nails. She shrank back against the wall and hugged her bag tightly to herself, but he didn't look as if he was after her money.

"Whatsa matter, pretty? I ain't handsome enough for you?"

"You're as ugly as a flobberworm," said a voice behind him. Madeline giggled and stood up as the greasy wizard turned in surprise. Mr. Borgin stood there, hunched over and wearing a dark gray cloak holding his wand and a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. "Come on, get ya gone," said Mr. Borgin.

"Yeah, yeah, just bein' friendly," muttered the other as he slunk off.

"Thanks," said Madeline who couldn't maintain her annoyance along with her sudden relief.

"Sorry I'm late. Had to pick up a package." He opened the door and they entered the dark shop. He flicked his wand and lit the old fashioned oil lamps. They created a dull yellowish glow that did more to enhance the sinister atmosphere than actually improve anybody's ability to see. Madeline took his cloak as she passed by on the way to the coat rack beside the fireplace. She hung it along with her powder blue one and her magenta trilby.

"So what's that then?" she asked indicating the package. When he didn't answer right away, she sang, "_Brown paper packages tied up with string_."

"Don't sing," he said.

"Grumpy," she observed.

"I just don't like your repertoire. Nobody sings those songs. Nobody's even _heard_ of them," he grumbled.

"I make them up," she lied.

He carefully unwrapped the package, revealing a rather plain wooden box. It was blackened from age or fire and looked as if it might crumble to dust. She frowned, disappointed. "What is it?" she asked.

"A box," Mr. Borgin answered unhelpfully.

"Duh! What's in it?"

"Music."

"Well, why didn't you say it was a music box? You wouldn't talk to your customers that way, so-" Then he cut her off.

"You aren't a customer and it's not a music box."

"But, you said-"

"I _said_ that it contained music."

She blinked dumbly at him. Had she woken up in the wrong universe again? She frowned at the box, but couldn't wrap her mind around it- the concept that is, not the actual box.

He set it carefully in the glass case under the counter.

"Aren't you going to open it?" She gave him the same look a child gives another child who won't share his candy. "Please?"

Mr. Borgin sighed and set it back on top of the counter. He clenched his fist, then opened it and wiggled his fingers as if to test out the agility of his old crooked hand. His other hand held his wand warily over the box. He gingerly grasped the lid and picked it up ever so slightly, then slowly a little more until a slim sliver of sound crept out. It sounded like a high, light whistle, maybe a cross between a piccolo and a violin, like nothing Madeline had ever heard before, like nothing Mr. Borgin ever heard before either, but he wasn't enchanted. He looked more irked than anything. He shut it again. Madeline puckered her lower lip. "Waa! I liked that."

"Don't open it," he commanded.

"What if a custom-"

"_I_ will open it."

"Ok, fine," she agreed as she dusted one of the shelves of jewelry. She decided to do some rearranging and intermingled the stone animals from the bottom shelf with the jewelry. She was careful not to get bitten.

The morning was slow. Only two wizards came in and one of those came in to sell, not buy. Mr. Borgin took him to the back room to conduct business. While her boss was in the back, Madeline was tempted to open the box. She sidled over toward it with her eye on the curtain to the back room. It did no good to listen; there was a muffling charm on the doorway. Before she could muster up the nerve to open the box, however, a customer came in. His entrance was announced by the tinkle of the little bell on the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Kurtz. May I help you?" said Madeline cheerily to the gray-haired wizard with the captain's hat.

"Hhmm," he responded vaguely as he skulked around the shop eyeballing bones on display stands, dark spell books, evil looking painted masks, and black onyx egg cups. He paused, taking in the sight of a cursed-blade knife.

"That's a lovely thing," Madeline pointed out, stepping lightly over to the customer. She picked up the knife. It had a cloisonne' handle and sheath of red with black roses with dark green leaves and copper detailing. "It's pretty." She tilted it so it caught the flickering light. "You have to be careful when you take it out of its sheath, though," she said as she ripped off the dangling warning tag which did nothing for the mystique of the object. Then she said in an exaggerated stage whisper, "You want to hold it, dontcha?" She nodded solemnly and then smiled as he took it out of her hand. She sang in her head, "_I'm making a sale! I'm making a sale!_" Mr. Kurtz pulled it slowly from its sheath to examine the blade.

"It's not so sharp, but it doesn't have to be," explained Madeline. "It's plenty dangerous- and dead useful too," she added brightly. If you use it to cut flowers, they stay fresh and beautiful for months. He re-sheathed it and made to put it down. Seeing her prey slipping away, she quickly took the knife from the customer and pulled it out of its sheath. "But if it even touches your skin, you're dead. And..." She paused to pull a cotton handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped her hand. "It's perfectly balanced." She set it on her covered finger tip right on the handle near where it meets the blade. He only looked mildly impressed. She grinned recklessly and lifted it, dropped the handkerchief which fluttered to the floor like a wounded moth and replaced the knife on her naked fingertip where it wobbled dangerously. When it steadied itself, she blew gently at the blade and the knife began to rotate slowly. She blew a little harder and it spun faster. "Perfectly balanced," she said with her eyes focused on the knife. She tipped her head down in concentration and furrowed her brow. She looked like a cat ready to pounce. She then popped the knife into the air and caught it, thankfully, by the handle. She heard Mr. Kurtz let out a relieved sigh. Madeline slid the knife back into its sheath with smug satisfaction.

"I'll take it," said the wizard.

"Lovely, I'll wrap it up for you," said Madeline just as if she was selling him a china kitten figurine.

"Wait," said Kurtz, "Accio cursed blade."

Madeline released it into the air where it floated to the wizard. He unsheathed it as he strode up to her. He set down his wand and the sheath, then unexpectedly grasped Madeline's wrist and held the flat of the blade near her bare forearm. She yelped involuntarily and pulled back, but couldn't rip herself from his grip.

"No!" she shrieked.

He released her. "Just checking," he said simply as he re-sheathed the blade, satisfied that it was genuinely cursed. There were certainly other ways of checking, but for some reason, her customers delighted in tormenting the squib shop assistant.

"Whew!" she blew her overgrown black bangs out of her dark almond eyes and walked behind the counter to ring up the sale on the vintage till with the crank on the side. This cash-register itself was quite a nice antique which would have gone for a pretty penny at Christies auction house.

"Mr. Kurtz, you're insane." Madeline laughed and winked at him.

"Miss Moody, don't insult my customers." Madeline hadn't noticed Mr. Borgin come out of the curtain behind her.

"My fault, Borgin," said Mr. Kurtz, "I deserved it." He chuckled.

Mr. Borgin looked from Mr. Kurtz to the item Madeline was wrapping up. He smiled at the nice sale and momentarily forgot the wizard with whom he had just done business and was now coming out of the back room. The man pulled up his hood and kept his head low as he swiftly headed to the door. Mr. Borgin licked his lips and began to speak, but thought better of it and let the wizard leave unobtrusively.

After Mr. Kurtz left too, Madeline grinned. "Mr. Borgin, you might like to congratulate me on a masterful sale," she hinted obviously but futilely. Her dark eyes narrowed and she _tsked_. "I don't know why I work here," she said to herself. "So, just how cursed was the cursed knife?" She pretended to ask out of idle curiosity.

"If it touches even a hair on your head, you die a slow and suffocating death," he said casually.

"Oh." She focused on her breathing. She made herself cough then took in an exaggerated breath.

"You're fine," her employer laughed.

Just then, a small brown and white speckled owl flew through the transom window above the door and landed on the top of the till. Mr. Borgin removed the parchment tied to its leg and read it.

"Madeline, take care of the place. I need to go pick something up," said the shopkeeper. "It better be worth my time, " he added.

"Aye, aye, sir," Madeline saluted, "and don't forget it's almost my lunch..." He grabbed his cloak and left through the fireplace in a small green explosion, "...break."

Madeline turned and accidentally knocked over a basket of dried knockweed buds. "Drat!" she - exclaimed. Then she squatted down and sighed. They had rolled all over the place- under the counter. She began humming as she gathered them up, then paused and looked into the glass case that held the box of music. "Just a little," she said to herself and went behind the counter to get it out and set it on the counter. She lifted the lid and allowed the music to stream out, then slid the lid over so that the box was slightly ajar. The music was pleasant. It reminded her of springtime and little fuzzy creatures. It made the tedious task of gathering knockweed buds go more quickly.

By the time she stood up with the basket, she realized her heart was beating quickly to the now very intense music. She had a curious sensation like when one gets a sudden chill, but it didn't pass. She shut her eyes against the aggressive sound and imagined music whirling around her. She didn't see that the lid of the black box had slid itself farther open. The sounds rushed past her face, fluttering her hair. She realized the sound was more complex than she had first thought and if she turned her head ever so slightly, she could hear various distinct tones and tempos emphasized as if they were hidden behind each micro-speck of dust in the store. It gradually became less amusing and more scratch-on-the-blackboard painful. Now, if she didn't keep her head perfectly still, the sounds spun into a cacophony of dissonance. Tears streamed down her face as she crumpled to the floor, her hands uselessly over her ears. She didn't notice the shop door open, nor the wizard in black robes who entered, cringed, and then quickly spotted the box and shut it with a swish of his wand, but she did notice the blessed silence.

Madeline's muscles relaxed from exhaustion. She craved peace like a goldfish craves water as it lays beside its broken bowl. She felt something tap her shoulder but didn't look up right away. She remained a small lump on the carpet.

"You're all right" said a voice which was laughing.

She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly. She saw a black walking stick. "_Oh, bat droppings,_" she thought to herself. Gazing upward confirmed her suspicion that it belonged to Lucius Malfoy. "_Drat, why him? Of all the people you don't want to appear vulnerable in front of, why him?_" she thought to herself, or would have if she wasn't feeling insanely grateful at the moment, even with him laughing at her in that annoyingly pompous manner.

She got to her feet. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder so that she would have to look up in order to see his face. So, she didn't. Instead she looked around, half expecting to see some damage or other evidence of the violent sound that so recently filled the shop, but everything appeared to be untouched.

"Er," she began, "Thank you," she said reluctantly. She glared at the horrible box. He gave her an amused semi-smile which she preceded to ignore out of the corner of her eye, while she shoved the box back in the counter display case. "Stupid thing," she muttered to herself.

"Well, you _are_ only a squib, you can't be expected actually_ know_ anything."

She glared at him, "I didn't mean _me_, I meant _the box_," she said with a huff. Then she caught the mischievous glint in his eye and smirked incredulously. "You are so..."

"What am I?" he asked raising a brow and looking down his nose at her like a haughty peacock who has just been addressed by an earthworm.

"I won't say it," she said flipping her long black tresses. "You may have a reprieve just this once."

He chuckled, breaking form, "You are most generous." His tone was uncharacteristically playful. "I'll consider myself fortunate."

"You should," she winked. Then her eyes lit up. "Oh, you must be here for your package. Now where-did-I-put-it?" she asked herself while tapping out each syllable on the tip of her nose. "Oh, I know." She went into the back room.

Mr. Malfoy browsed around the shop and when Madeline came out with a very small package wrapped in brown sack-cloth, he was stooping down to pick up a packet of playing cards. As he stood up, she walked over to him and he took the package unceremoniously from her and stuffed it into an inner pocket of his black robes.

"What do you say?" she prompted in a motherly tone.

He looked down at her and sneered contemptuously which sent her into a gale of laughter which quite unnerved him. The girl was very annoying. She didn't fear him, admire him, want anything from him. She didn't even hate him. All she did was confirm the stereotype that squibs were insane. But, her manners and humor, though crude, were a bit refreshing, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone. Mr. Malfoy did his best to ignore Madeline's outburst of laughter.

When she quite recovered, she pointed to the pack of cards in his hand. "Those are so amazing." He held them up out of her reach. She gasped indignantly. "I'm going to show you how they work." He handed them over with a look that attempted to say, "_I don't want the filthy things anyway_." She rolled her eyes at that look. "Now," she began, "let's say you are playing Penneech-"

"I don't play Penneech."

She gave him the, Don't-waste-my-time-with-stupid-comments look. It was an unfamiliar sensation, being on the _receiving_ end of that look. Madeline slid the deck out of its box and continued on with her sales pitch. "Then suddenly, an ogre bursts into the room."

"I would curse it."

"No, you wouldn't, because you have this super deck of "Carnac's Killer Cards of Cursed Cutting." She flicked one and it sped with supernatural speed and sliced into the wall, where it stayed wedged half way in. "You can't miss your target because of the psychic charm on them that knows where you want to aim." She threw another that stuck in next to the first. "They always stay sharp." She went over to where they were stuck. Mr. Malfoy gave a bored sigh which Madeline ignored as she tried to yank one out of the wall. _Pluck!_ One came free. The second card was harder to grip, being stuck farther into the wall. She muttered under her breath and yanked hard. She fell backwards as it came free. "Ow! GawsheerDamn!" she swore clumsily and looked down at the deep cut in her hand. "Stupid things!" She jammed the blood covered cards back into the pack and briefly wiped the box on her jeans which only succeeded in smearing the blood over more of the box surface. She tossed it into a glass display case. "Forget the cards." She swiped up her discarded handkerchief from the floor and wrapped her hand. Only then did she notice his amusement at her misfortune.

"You must be the most inept shop assistant I have ever seen," he ridiculed.

She seethed and muttered something about a pompous something-or-other.

"Give me your hand," he said patronizingly. She thrust it at him with her lower lip puckered in a pout. He removed his wand from his walking stick, took hold of her hand and ran his wand over her gash, sealing it. Then he said _"Scourgify" _which cleaned the blood.

"Thank-" she began but was astonished by the fact that he kissed her palm before returning her hand to her, "-you..."

"No. Thank _you_." he replied as he slipped the wand back into his walking stick and strode out of the shop.


End file.
